ethusa's coat was off before the kindly suggestion was quite
finished, then she looked at Miss Rosa.

Elinor read the hesitating thought. "It's all right," she said. "Miss
Rosa must fit it for you, you know."

So Miss Rosa whisked off Arethusa's shirtwaist for her, and her skirt,
and even manipulated that uncompromisingly unbeautiful protection which
Miss Eliza insisted was all that kept the healthy Arethusa from dying
of pneumonia in the winter season, in such a very capable way that it
could not possibly show; and slipped the dainty gown over the girl's
ruddy head. And it fitted her as if it had been made especially to her
measurement.

Arethusa stared into the mirror directly before her, and into the ones
all around her, twisting and turning to see every inch of her back,
lost in ecstasy at the contemplation of her glorified self in these
Wonderful Reflections. Even the heavy black lace shoes, ugly shoes from
a country store, which showed so plainly below her green skirt, had no
sort of power to spoil for Arethusa the general effect of loveliness.

It was the most Beautiful Dress in the world, she was sure.

The skirt billowed and flowed around her in soft generous folds of pale
green chiffon and lace draped over an underskirt of green silk, and
caught to it here and there with bunches of tiny flowers in odd, bright
colors. The waist had a high, soft girdle of the green silk, and some
of the little flowers were sewed around one side of it against the
gathers of the skirt; and a tight little bunch of them was right in the
middle of her back at the very top of the girdle, from which hung
narrow, flowing sash-ends that were tied into the fulness of the skirt
with other wee bunches of the flowers. Some of these flowers were
nestled about in the lace on the upper part of the waist as if they had
grown there, and some caught up the short lace sleeves.

"How do you like it?" asked Elinor. It was really rather a superfluous
question.

"I _love_ it!" burst from Arethusa. "I think it is Perfectly
Beautiful!" Then she turned around. "But I just know, Mother, that
Aunt 'Liza won't like it at all."

"Why, what on earth has Miss Eliza to do with it?"

"You see," seriously, "she has always said just what I should wear,
and she tells Aunt 'Titia just how to make them."

"I understand, dear, but you're in Lewisburg now; and ... I can't
see possibly how Miss Eliza could have a single objection to make."

But Arethusa knew